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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28466268">On the Block Where You Live</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyKat/pseuds/AlyKat'>AlyKat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Courtship [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Gen, Human/Vampire Relationship, Meet-Cute</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:33:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,513</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28466268</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyKat/pseuds/AlyKat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"I live in Brooklyn. Honey, you are probably the <b>least</b> scary thing I've seen all week."</i> </p>
<p>Well. That was fair enough...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Barney Barton/Simone (Hawkeye)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Courtship [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/51381</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>On the Block Where You Live</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/roguebowtie/gifts">roguebowtie</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I had been telling my co-writer of Courtship for <i>months</i> now that I was going to get around to writing a fic of how Barney and Simone met. This is finally that story. </p>
<p>Happy Belated Christmas! </p>
<p>I hope you enjoy. </p>
<p>And to anyone finding this fic out of the blue, it's kind of self-explanatory, but you might want to read the series also just to kind of get some more context.  Also, this is completely unbeta'd, I wrote it entirely on my phone, any and all mistakes or awkwardness is mine and mine alone.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>OCTOBER 19TH, 2008</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>BED-STUY NEIGHBORHOOD, BROOKLYN, NEW YORK.</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Barney groaned low in his throat. His head pounded and every inch of him felt like he'd been hit by a truck. Repeatedly. Rolling his head back and forth, he clenched his eyes shut all the more. Moving head, not a great idea. He could almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>hear</span>
  </em>
  <span> bones grinding and scraping together. What the ever loving hockey sticks happened to him last night? He remembered walking down the street, no particular place to go, just looking for a quick bite to eat. Then...oh yeah, those weird Russians that kept saying "bro" and "seriously" came up to him demanding payment for being on their street. He hadn't been in the mood for Russian, at the time, so he did what came naturally to him, he tried to bargain his way passed and when that didn't work, told them all to fuck off. That, apparently, hadn't been a great idea, either. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a pathetic whine, he tried to open his eyes, ready to face whatever dingy, dirty alley he'd found himself in this time. Except, alleys didn't usually have soft ground, or smell like...like...flowers? Or something? Something that definitely was NOT rotten food and homeless man piss. They also weren't decorated with kid toys and family photos. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Miss Simone!! He's 'wake!" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barney flinched and hissed softly at the shrill voice that yelled next to his ear. A voice that could only belong to a young kid. Oh great...there was a kid nearby. Hopefully they weren't going to keep yelling in his ear the whole time he was there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Mistah? Are you Dracula? You gots really long teeth like Dracula. Are you gonna suck our blood? Can you turn into a bat? How comes you was out during the daytime? Can I feed you my little bruddah? Miss Simone says you should be dead. Are you dead? You don't look dead t'me. Look, Miss Simone! He ain't dead!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That's enough, baby. Go check on your brother."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"We gonna feed him to Mistah Dracula?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Boy, I'm gonna feed you to the whole gang of Tracksuit Draculas if you don't do what you're told."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With another groan, Barney finally opened his eyes all the way, just in time to watch as a little boy went running off to a different room and a woman stepped into sight. No screaming yet. No Holy Water baths or having a creepy cross shoved in his face. That was a plus. He really hated when people did that stuff. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Uhh...hi?" He said gruffly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Hmph. Well, since you apparently </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> still alive, guess that means you can start answering some questions." Her answer was not quite what he'd expected. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With more of a struggle than there should have been, Barney managed to lever himself up into a seated position and rubbed the back of his head. "Uh...okay. can I ask one, real quick?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Right. Alright. I guess...ask away."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her arms folded over her chest, one hip popped out in a sassy kind of way and well, honestly the skeptical look on her dark skinned face was pretty damn adorable. If not slightly terrifying in a way only a mother could give. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Who or </span>
  <em>
    <span>what </span>
  </em>
  <span>are you? How are you still alive? What are you doing in Bed-Stuy? Why were those stupid Russians beating the daylights out of you? Why can't I find your pulse? And...what? Why are you looking at me like that?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Heh, sorry," Barney huffed in a soft laugh, "just thinking how that kid must be related to you, since you two are both so good at doing that."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Doing </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Askin' a buncha questions without giving me time to answer any." He couldn't help but smirk as her jaw dropped for a moment before snapping shut. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her dark eyes glanced away briefly, shoulders dropping, before she turned to look back at him. She was pretty good looking, if Barney were being honest with himself. Dark skin, dark curly hair pulled back off her face with a pink headband, but she looked tired; that one was plain to see. She looked too young to be so tired and beat down by life. Then again, another quick scan of the apartment and Barney had to wonder if maybe life really had beaten her down that much already. Well, he could relate to that. A little too well. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Look," he finally said, breaking the tenuous silence that had fallen between them, "m'name's Barney. Barney Barton. I was just passing through the area, you could call me a uh…I'm sort of a...uh...well, guess 'm kind of a down on his luck American. I dunno who those guys were or why they started wailin' on me, 'sides from the fact I told 'em they could kiss my ass if they thought I was gonna pay them to walk down a street."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Those dark eyes went wide and glanced up over his shoulder before narrowing on him again. "Hey, watch your language, huh? There's young ears around here, you know?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barney blushed and ducked his head as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Sorry. Anyway, now you got your answers, can I ask something?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a pause before, "You didn't answer what you are and how you're even still alive."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Was it too much to want to ask one simple question? That's all he wanted to do. Ask one question. Ok, he changed his mind about the woman being kind of attractive. She was annoying and aggravating. Shaking his head, he slumped down on the couch and winced. Right. Head shaking. Bad idea, Barton. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Seein' as how the kid kinda hit the nail on the head, figured I didn't need to answer that one." Barney quirked a brow at her before he shut his eyes and sighed. "Now, s'my turn to ask a question. Why am I on your couch instead of locked up on a slab in the city morgue?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The fight finally seemed to have gone out of her -- Simone, wasn't that what the rugrat called her? -- with a heavy sigh. "Cops, EMTs, hospitals, they're all owned and run by the same guy around here. Same guy that those Tracksuit Draculas work for. If those guys were trying to kill you, cops and paramedics would have finished the job. Figured you'd be safer here."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barney cracked open an eye and stared at her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Once I found your pulse, I mean," Simone added with a huff and a roll of her own eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Hm…" hummed Barney with a smirk and small nod. Yeah, that sounded a little better. Though, that didn't exactly make him </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel </span>
  </em>
  <span>much better. Those guys had him on the ground and he was pretty sure there were some heavy chains and a baseball bat or two involved in beating the hell out of him. They got the jump on him, okay? Had he been paying attention they wouldn't have caught him off guard. Fine, it was embarrassing that even with his enhanced Vampy-Sense they managed to take him down before he could even blink. Not like anyone was gonna know how embarrassing that was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Y'got any aspirin or an ice pack or something, by chance?" He asked. "Kinda feels like my skull got bashed in a bit." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Probably because it did. Stay there, let me see what I can find." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wasn't like he was planning on going anywhere. He didn't want to risk another run in with those dumbasses from earlier. He wasn't always the brightest guy in the world, and he was known to do some really stupid stuff in the past, but getting his ass kicked once by that lot was enough for him. Although, the more he thought about it, the more Borscht was starting to sound appetizing after all. Maybe he'd even spring for a bottle of the GOOD Russian Vodka afterwards. The stuff that was illegal in the States cuz it was so strong. Borscht, Vodka, and then sleep for a few days straight to heal up. Yeah, that sounded like an awesome plan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Hey, don't go falling asleep on me. Pretty sure you've got a concussion." Simone's voice was softer this time, almost concerned, and wasn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>a laugh! Barney couldn't remember the last time anyone sounded </span>
  <em>
    <span>concerned</span>
  </em>
  <span> about him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blinked himself awake again as he moved to sit up straighter. Simone's hand was on his shoulder, warm, kind, alive. Everything he wasn't. It felt...nice. Barney reached for the offered ice pack and pills; one he put against the back of his head, the other he swallowed dry. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Don't gotta worry 'bout me. Pretty sure I can't fall into a coma. Least, I don't think I can. Dunno, never have before though. Thanks, by the way."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her hand still on his shoulder, Simone tilted her head. "For what?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barney shrugged. "Dragging my as-uh-butt outta that alley. Not callin' the cops or an ambulance. The aspirin. Ice pack. No stake through the heart. Not screaming prayers at me or shoving a cross and garlic in my face. Not dumping a whole bucket of Holy Water on me. All that. Thanks." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Does that stuff actually hurt you?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Huh? Oh, no. It's just really futzing annoying. Though, never been staked before...that might do some real damage. Not in any hurry to find out." He gave her an odd half smile. He could tell he made her uneasy and for some reason found himself wanting to ease her fears instead of increase them like he probably should. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simone took a step closer, another question ready on her lips. She had just about started to ask it when a knock sounded at the door. Barney shot a quick glance at the door. He tried to get himself moving again so he could make an escape out the window if he needed to, but his head and legs weren't exactly talking to each other, it seemed. Instead, he sat deathly still as Simone moved to open the door and only relaxed slightly when another woman stepped in through the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I really 'preciate you watching the boys for me, Simone. I know you've got your own to take care of, but...I couldn't take Julio and Miguel with me." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Baby, I know how hard and confusing trying to get public aid is. You didn't need those two there causin' trouble and distracting you. Besides, Charles loved having playmates."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two women stepped into view. Barney looked them both over carefully. The new one with caramel colored skin and shining jet black hair that hung loose and straight around her round face. She was shorter than Simone, a bit fuller framed, and like Simone looked tired and defeated. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Sí," the woman answered with a nod. "I know, but, you have class tonight. You have a test, don't you? You shouldn't have needed to watch my boys when you could have been studying or resting."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Victoria, I said it's fine. Really. You help me with the boys all the time. I was glad to return the favor finally. The boys are in the bedroom. Last I saw Miguel was napping with Charles if you wanna go in and get them."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Victoria nodded, a small, tired smile on her face. "Gracias, Simone. I'll try not to wake your littles." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, without a glance to the couch, Victoria slipped into the bedroom, leaving Simone and Barney alone once again. Barney waited a beat before he looked up at Simone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"So...kids, huh?" He glanced from Simone to the bedroom door and back again. "Your fella must be at work?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was Simone's turn to look at him in confusion. When it finally clicked, she shook her head and looked away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Their daddy and I parted ways a few months back. Before Jamal was born." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh. Uh...sorry."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simone waved him off as Victoria came out of the bedroom carrying one sleeping little boy in her arms while the one that had screamed in Barney's ear trotted along beside her. Julio paused when he saw Barney watching them and tugged on his mother's shirt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Momma, look. See? That's Mistah Dracula! I told you!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barney's eyebrows shot for his hairline and he chuckled softly as he shook his head. It was a good thing the kid seemed young enough to have an overactive imagination. He gave a small wave to Victoria. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Ma'am." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Victoria gave a startled yelp as she turned to see where her son was pointing. "Dios mío! Señor, I'm sorry. I didn't see you there." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She then turned to her son to give him a quiet scolding. Probably about accusing people of being vampires or something. Barney didn't know much Spanish, so all he really caught was "Mi hijo," </span>
  <em>
    <span>my son, </span>
  </em>
  <span>"vampiros," pretty self explanatory, "detente," </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, "señorita Simone," again, self explanatory, and "vamos," </span>
  <em>
    <span>go</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He watched the boy jump and give a yelp of his own as his backend got a sharp smack before he ducked his head and went hurrying to Simone to give her a hug. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Gracias, Miss Simone, for letting us come over to play for a little while." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You're welcome, baby." Simone smiled at Victoria and moved to open the door for them. "I'll talk to you later, Vicki."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Sí, Simone. Thank you again. Good luck on your test tonight. Julio, Ándele. Vamos…" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Victoria's voice faded as the door shut behind them and the small family moved along on their way. Barney shifted the ice pack on his head and watched Simone move silent as a whisper across the floor and into the room Victoria and her boys had come out of. Must have been Simone's kids room. Head tilted back and eyes closed again, Barney waited and listened. Car horns and shouting down on the street, someone blasting rap music that seemed to be at war with the Middle Eastern music someone else had blaring. A car backfiring - at least, he hoped that was a car backfiring - and he could just faintly make out the sounds of Russian accents shouting out, "Bro" and "Seriously". Oh joy, those assholes were still around. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yet, what seemed to come through it all was a soft, sweet voice. Gentle and quiet as she coaxed Charles and Jamal back to sleep. Barney felt something stir inside him as he listened to her speak. Anymore, the name Charles wasn't exactly a common name and a strange sense of happiness went through him at hearing her say that name. After all, his parents hadn't really been cruel enough to actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>name</span>
  </em>
  <span> him Barney. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Simone stepped out of the bedroom, door mostly shut behind her, Barney flashed her an odd little smirk. "Nice name your kid's got there. Gotta say I personally approve of it." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Excuse me?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Your kid. Charles. S'is a good name. I like it. Good choice. Though, it never sat right on me. I was never right enough to go by it. Middle name suited me better." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simone tipped her head as she raised an eyebrow at him. She clearly thought he was nuts. Huffing a laugh, he reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet and flipped it open. Buried in the back, behind a faded and worn photo that he feared would one day crumble into nothing, he pulled out a round metal tag. It, like the photo, was old and near worn smooth, but the name stamped across the top was still clear to see. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>CHARLES B BARTON<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>SGT<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>94 AERO  <br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>USA</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Slightly bigger than a quarter, he tossed it to Simone with a flick of his wrist. He watched as it flipped through the air and landed in her palm. He didn't know why he held on to that damn thing, maybe as a reminder of how long he'd managed to survive, or what all he had been through in his extremely long life. It was a piece of his past that he hung onto for all his worth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simone flipped it over in her hand and frowned as she read the rubbed worn text across the front. "What's this?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"My dog tag," he answered as if it were obvious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Dog tag?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah, y'know, military dog tag? So medics could ID my body if they ever found it. Which they didn't, but hey, can't blame them." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Uh...huh. This isn't a dog tag." She walked over to hand it back to him, doubt evident all over her face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a shrug, he took it back, ran his thumb across the name, and put it back into his wallet. "Was back in 1917 when I got it."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The apartment was silent for a good long while. Barney didn't usually offer up information about himself so freely, at least not the true stuff. He didn't want to get locked up in the loony bin, but seeing as how Simone had saved his life and hadn't started freaking out on him, he figured maybe he could tell her the truth. A little bit, anyway. Those dark eyes searched his face, weighing whether or not she believed what he had told her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"When were you born?" Her question was soft, curious. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"November 11th, 1887." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You really fought in the first World War?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Fought, died, brought back. Yeah. Why are you takin' this so well? You're not a vamp." It was his turn to eye her suspiciously. She was definitely alive and everything about Barney could tell. From the warmth she radiated to the way he could hear her heart's steady thum-thump thum-thump in her chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simone quirked an eyebrow. "I live in Brooklyn. Honey, you are probably the </span>
  <em>
    <span>least</span>
  </em>
  <span> scary thing I've seen all week."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barney barked out a startled laugh at that. She did have a point, strange as it may be. He wanted to argue that she didn't know him well enough to say that, though. For all she knew, he really would turn into a bat and try to suck their blood. He wouldn't, of course, he wasn't that big of an asshole. Plus, he'd learned through the years that Hollywood loved to give vampires a bad rap. Were there ones that were blood thirsty killers? Sure, most likely, anyway, but like the living, they weren't all like that. Hell, his own sire had been one of the best men he'd ever known, who was married to another vampire and she was a midwife and then a nurse her entire long life. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Alright. Fair enough," he answered with a lopsided grin. The ice pack still against the back of his head dripped a cold droplet down his neck, sending a shudder through him that had him groaning pathetically. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I think those assholes really did give me a concussion,"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Can you not swear, please? I don't want my boys picking any of that up." Simone moved to sit on the couch beside him and reached to turn his head. "Lemme see. Got any double vision? Speech isn't slurring, that's a plus."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barney ducked his head sheepishly and allowed Simone to gently prod along his skull. "Sorry," he murmured, "no...no double vision. Just hurts like a bit...uh...beech tree…" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simone hummed and continued to move her fingers along his head. Barney hated to admit just how good it felt to have someone running their fingers through his hair again. Actually, how good it felt to have someone touch him that wasn't trying to beat the living hell out of him. His eyes fell shut and he drew in a slow breath he didn't necessarily need. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"How old are your kids?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Charles is two and a half, Jamal will be six months in another week or so." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wow. Those were little guys. That...was really little. At that age, Barney had already learned how to play hide and seek to avoid the snap side of his father's belt. And at just a year older he was struggling to hide his baby brother right along with him. It'd been a lot of years since then, but there were some things time couldn't erase. The memory of his drunkard father beating the hell out of him, his brother, hell even their mom, was something he'd never forget. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well," Simone's voice pulled him from the darkness his thoughts were starting to drift down. "You got a pretty good goose egg back there, but don't think it's a concussion."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reluctantly, Barney pulled away and shifted to settle himself into the corner of the couch. "You a doctor, then?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Do you think I'd be living </span>
  <em>
    <span>here </span>
  </em>
  <span>if I was?" She scoffed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Uh...that a trick question?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simone rolled her eyes and stood. "No, I'm not a doctor." She took the ice pack from him on her way back to the kitchen area, then began loading the dishwasher. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Feeling awkward but not quite ready to walk away, never to see the kind, tender woman ever again, Barney pushed himself off the couch -- ignoring the pain that was still stabbing at him in places -- as he moved to follow her. He knew he probably should leave, but...he didn't want to. He'd always been a little selfish, after all. Besides -- and he would deny it to his final death dying day -- he was maybe a little bit, kind of, sort of...lonely. Simone had been so nice to him, and he didn't know when or how she'd found him, but, she'd helped him when he was pretty sure anyone else on the street would have left him for dead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hip propped against the edge of the table, he nudged an empty mug towards her. "Why don't'cha move? The neighborhood sure ain't a staying point." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simone shook her head. "I work two jobs and still have a hard enough time making rent on time and keeping my boys fed. You think I can afford to move?" She reached for the mug and huffed. "Whatever little bit of money I do have left over, I use towards taking night classes at the hospital."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Ah, so you're </span>
  <em>
    <span>training </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be a doctor." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No, nurse." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh," Barney rubbed the back of his neck. He should probably stop making an ass of himself. The awkward silence had started to creep back in around him. He took another glance around the apartment while Simone closed up the dishwasher and started it. When she turned back to him, dish towel in hand, Barney finally took a deep breath and straightened up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Guess, uh...guess I should probably head on out now. My...head isn't hurting near as bad anymore, so...thanks." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You're welcome. I need to get the boys ready to head out for the sitters, anyway." She hesitated for a moment and Barney wanted to believe it was because she didn't want him to leave the apartment, but he wasn't going to try fooling himself like that. She continued again in that quiet, caring tone of voice. "You be careful out there, Barney Barton."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Deciding to take a risk, and with more suave than he normally possessed, Barney took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. He pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles, let it linger for a moment, then released. "I will if you will. I have it on good authority you ain't exactly in the best neighborhood in town."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With another odd little smirk, he stepped away from Simone to start for the door. His trusty duffle bag sat on the floor next to a small gathering of beat up, worn out shoes. It had become painfully obvious that Simone didn't have much but deserved everything in the world. Her and her boys shouldn't have to worry about where the next meal was coming from or how. A quiet protectiveness formed in Barney's chest as he picked up his bag and cast one last look over his shoulder. Someone so kind and beautiful shouldn't be working herself to death just to take care of her family. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe he could stick around Brooklyn for a little while longer yet. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~*~*~*~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simone trudged her way up the stairs to her fourth floor apartment. She was tired, her back and feet ached something horrible, and all she wanted to do was curl up with her boys, watch a bit of TV and sleep for a week. It had been a long, hard month, not to mention she'd been told that morning that rent would be going up, again. They'd just done a rent increase at the start of the year, how and why did they think they could justify another one? She would have to drop one or both of her night classes just to pick up another shift at the diner. Even then, there was no guarantee she would make enough to get by. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe she could get hold of Andrew, ask him for a bit of help. He would help, she knew that. Those were his boys she was raising, of course he would help her out, but her pride kept getting in the way. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Adjusting the bag of food in her hand, Simone drew up short when she got to her apartment door. There was an envelope taped to it, an old, slightly scrawled yet still almost elegant writing across the front. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>SIMONE</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Well, at least it wasn't an eviction notice. The Russians usually had thugs waiting outside a perso</span>
  <span>n's door for that. Mail wasn't usually their style. Cautious about what it could be, she took it down, opened it, and gasped. Inside was a note, a check, and a small, metal medallion.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thanks again for saving my butt. Just returning the favor. Use it for rent, bills, tuition, to get a new place, whatever. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Take care of yourself and those boys. Maybe I'll see you around again, sometime. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Eternally yours,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Mr. Dracula </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>C.B. Barton. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simone choked when she saw how much the check was made out for. It was more money than she could make in three months! How did he get it? He was wandering around Bed-Stuy dressed up in hobo chic'. There was no way he could have… then again, she supposed he did have quite a few years to work up a decent checking and savings account. Still, it was too much, and if she ever caught sight of him again, she planned to give him a piece of her mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a tip of the envelope,  the cool disk of metal slid into her hand. Attached to it, was a strip of soft pink leather, just long enough to turn it into a necklace. Looking down at the stamped out words across the front, Simone felt a silly little schoolgirl flutter go through her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>CHARLES B BARTON<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>SGT<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>94 AERO<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>USA</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I'll keep my eye out for you, Mr. Barton," she whispered, thumbing across the dog tag gently. She didn't know if it were possible for vampires to be guardian angels, but something deep down told her that one had just stepped into her life, and honestly, she looked forward to seeing him again. </span>
</p>
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